Dabi Without His Scars Novels & Stories

I was Gavin Whitestone’s treasure for ten years. Then he abandoned me for another woman three times, and I finally saw the truth. I didn't love him anymore. I have three scars. Each one is named Gavin Whitestone. The first is just below my ribs, from a shootout two years ago. Sofia Bianchi ran out of a corner and took a bullet for Gavin. It hit her arm. Gavin sent every doctor in the city to her side, while I was left in a dark corner, pressing my hand to my stomach to keep myself from bleeding out from a piece of shrapnel.

A stray tear ran down Scar's face as he stared at the photo. Picking it up, Scar hugged it to his chest as the tear continued to run down his cheek and over the scar that his brother had given him the day he died. It hurt Scar so much knowing that his brother never got a chance at life, he always had the tendency to talk about the day he would have a child of his own. "One day, I'll have a little girl named Addy, and she'll have a smile as bright at yours, Chris", he'd say with the widest smile on his face. "I miss you, Gabby..." Scar whispered as he placed the photograph back, "But, I have to let you go now. I-I promise... I'll never forget you," he finished as he looked in the mirror once

Zebian sighed heavily and pressed his lips before facing his back on her. He sat in a kneeling position while Renai read his movement. The cruel sight had caught her eyes, those torrents of tattered scars gracing his skin. She gulped when she began scrutinising the bruises. Some were new, some were faded patches but all of them were equally spine-chilling. The old scars were lighter than the newer ones but they equally told a story. Every scar had its own different story. The older ones were severely carved on his skin, the rough patches were tattooed on it and they made her wonder when did he get them.

Maybe he was just seeing things. Still feeling somewhat unsettled, Darius pulled off the shirt he had on and examined the large red mark left on his chest. It seemed slightly different than the other scars he had received, less rough around the edges and not as obvious. If the person behind this had wanted to hurt him, they could’ve done it long ago and easily. As he examined the mark curiously, a small gasp escaped his lips. It was from his fight with the witch and it took this long to heal.

Vic says as he raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip. “Three blades strapped to my thing and a small hand gun to my other thigh” I tell him doing the same and taking a sip of my wine. As we go finish speaking the chef personally comes out with our plates. “Count four Cartel, spider tattoos, Diabla will be heading your way in twenty” he bows his head and smiles. Then he laughs and jokes while making a show of explaining our meals to us. I had expected a night out with my husband to be but in this world I guess that wishful thinking.

I’m as good as nothing to him again. But…why is he doing this? Bathing me, I mean. Does he always bathe women when he finishes fucking them…? My thoughts immediately spin around when my eyes leave Dima’s expressionless face and land on the scars that mark his skin. My face contorts as I try to make out the causes of the scars. It looks like someone picked his skin with a blazing knife. I can’t contain my curiosity, hence I ask, “What are these scars?” I don’t know that my hands are already moving of their volition, touching the scars and he pauses, immediately.

“Gotta see if Laina got her pet project right then we’ll have to kill you. I’d apologize, but I’m going to enjoy this.” Suddenly he shoved Dannie from him. She wasn’t expecting it and stumbled. Dannie fell hard on her hands and knees. Pain vibrated up through her, followed by the burn of scraped skin. She looked up through her hair, watching them surround her. The man and the others’ expressions were twisted with cruel delight. A sheen of pure black washed over their eyes and vanished. It was the undeniable proof - Deabru. Shit. She wondered why she couldn’t be right about something for once. Hopefully, Dannie would live long enough for Balric to say ‘I told you so.’

I turned over—and there he was. Damien's sculpted torso rose and fell with each slow breath. I hadn't really gotten a good look at him before, but in the calm of the morning, I could see the faded scars that traced his skin, ugly and raw, painting a history I couldn't even begin to imagine. The way the light touched him... it made every line, every muscle, every imperfection look almost surreal. He was peaceful, unguarded in sleep. I found myself tracing each scar with my eyes, feeling this weird pull—like they held stories, secrets, pain and survival.

He didn't just own the city; he controlled its lifeblood. Her trembling hands reached for his shirt, the first button slipping through her fingers. She fumbled with it for a few moments before finally unbuttoning it, revealing his taut muscles beneath. The scars that came on her sight were marred on his skin like they were symbols of battles fought and won, a constant reminder of who he was—a conqueror in the underworld. One particularly nasty scar ran across his ribs, the stitches still visible in the dim light.

"By the way, thanks for Kai's treatment. He is already better." "I can't remember asking for your appreciation," Abe mumbled, still invested in his potion. "He will be back to normal in some days. Though I doubt that he will be free from scars. Though, aren't we all scarred in one way or another?" Abe was being grouchy and Dallan couldn't blame him. For an old wizard with the face of a youth, staying awake throughout the night would have its toll on him. Well, in this case, it was making Abe easily irritated.